


Toeing the Line

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-08 15:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10389612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: A collection of semi-nsfw requests from tumblr.





	1. Munakata/Juzo/Chisa... having some “private time” and the other accidentally walking in.

“I know I’ve like, totally run this into the ground already, but thanks a bunch for coming over here to help me out,” says Chisa, arms laden with polyester tote bags of various colours.

Each bag serves a different purpose. Many combine to create a rainbow theme. Red contains meats, orange contains bread, yellow for pasta and rice, green for produce... then there are the bags that Juzo carries, like light blue for frozen foods, dark blue for cleaning products and purple for personal care. Other bags with colours not adhering to the standard rainbow are dotted among those previously listed, squished between two bags or tucked into an armpit.

Juzo drags his gaze from the technicolour bulges that Chisa carries and fixes his eyes on her face. Her rosy cheeks are a welcome red, unlike that which stains the sky and has done for the past few years. Despite what the sky might indicate, noon passed only an hour ago. His wristwatch, an anniversary gift from Kyosuke, assures Juzo of this.

“It’s fine,” says Juzo. They are otherwise alone.

“If I’d known I was going to end up buying so much stuff, I would have brought the car or got Kyosuke to tag along. There were so many bargains,” she tells him. “I think Kyosuke got sucked into his work again because he didn’t pick up when I tried calling him. I’m beginning to regret letting him turn the closet under the stairs into a home office...”

She looks off to the side and taps her chin a few times.

He doesn’t know if he needs to answer, but he does anyway, just in case. “Yeah.”

Chisa turns her head toward him. “I didn’t ruin your plans, did I?”

“Nah.” Juzo shrugs the shoulder closest to Chisa, not just as a motion to accompany what he said but to adjust the bag straps on that arm. “Usually I have to wait up to an hour for all the kids’ guardians to arrive, and the carer of the kid who’s usually last is off work because she broke her arm. You caught me just as I was locking up the gym.”

“I hope those poor kids don’t have to use what you teach them,” says Chisa, and she bites her lip before trailing off.

The word ‘hope’ reminds Juzo of Makoto Naegi so he grimaces. Chisa hums and the rest of the journey passes without any more conversation, as one of them skips and the other walks briskly. At their front door, Chisa twists the handle to open it, but to the surprise of both, they find it locked.

“Shouldn’t Kyosuke be in?” asks Juzo.

Her brow furrows. “Yeah, you know what Kyosuke’s like. Even though Tengan finally got him to take the day off, he’s probably working in that closet office of his. And then Tengan has to go and give everyone the afternoon off anyway... I think Tengan mentioned some guys coming in to do some refurbishment?”

She shifts her weight between feet several times as she wiggles a hand, hindered by tote bags, toward her lab coat pocket, hunting around for their front door key. Not finding it as quickly as she expected, Chisa lowers her arms to gently set the bags down on the porch, by which point Juzo has reached into his back pocket for his key.

“Ah ha!” goes Chisa as she whips out her key from the collection of miscellaneous goods also in that pocket, but Juzo has unlocked the door by then. Chisa pouts and picks up her bags, while he enters ahead of her. 

Juzo takes a few steps then pauses. The door clicking shut behind Chisa, though it lasts a mere second, is louder than the relative silence that hangs around prior and afterwards. He works his way out of his shoes without using his hands and achieves one pace forward when Chisa grabs his shoulder.

“Wh-?” Juzo gets cut off by Chisa’s warm palm and a hiss from her lips.

“Let’s surprise him,” she says into his ear, her unexpected proximity making him jump and emit a yelp that buzzes against her hand.

They both wait. The house gives no indication that it heard them, and they sigh in relief. Realising simultaneously that their sighs could betray their presence, they flinch, but again, nothing. Their shoulders sink.

Chisa springs into action first and slips past Juzo, no longer with any bags in her possession. Juzo follows in example and dumps them where he stands so he can creep behind her. What they’re doing is something that one would expect from a child, not two Heads of branches at Future Foundation, but a smile pulls at Juzo’s lips anyway and he can’t help feeling a rush of excitement.

Usually, Kyosuke would be impossible to sneak up on. He has gone to too many self-defence classes and had to use the skills outside of those classes too many times to be able to afford to be able to be sneaked up on and still be alive. But maybe, Juzo wonders, if Kyosuke’s work preoccupies him enough... then they could catch him off guard and be rewarded by a rare expression of surprise, unrestrained and unburdened by control, something accomplished only during critical moments of certain bedroom activities.

Kyosuke’s closet office can only be accessed through a door in the living room. Chisa tiptoes across the wooden flooring in long strides that Juzo copies to a lesser extreme. 

Neither breathe as they approach, and their dedication to what, in the grand scheme of things, is a rather trivial pursuit, pays off in the form of a groan. 

They stop in their tracks. The muffled noise originated from the closet office, behind its closed door, and logic dictates that it must have come from Kyosuke. Chisa and Juzo shoot each other looks topped with arched eyebrows and polished with parted lips. Another moan teases from beyond the door, this time followed by,

“Yukizome... Chisa...”

That is definitely Kyosuke. Juzo doesn’t get enough time to process what Kyosuke said and be disappointed or jealous because seconds later, Kyosuke adds, 

“S-Sakakura...”

Their expressions don’t change despite the warmth that spreads through their faces, even at the splurt and consequent squelching as Kyosuke applies something to his hands and rubs it warm. They can’t see him, but Chisa must know and Juzo definitely knows that Kyosuke must be sat at his chair, pushed away from the desk to give sufficient space so Kyosuke can stretch out his legs and lean back. When Kyosuke lets out his next sigh, Juzo pictures him biting down on his lip as he fails to hold in the sound, silver hair damp with sweat, and the Kyosuke in his mind flutters his lashes as he returns his fist to his unzipped fly.

Kyosuke’s tie would be loosened. Juzo is sure of this. The top button of his shirt would definitely be out of its hole, and maybe the one below it also, and the bottom of his shirt would spill over his unbuckled belt. Even while alone, Kyosuke would try to keep his composure, but his face would blotch pink and his breathing would trip up and his chair would creak with his minute movements, as his fist jerks and his lips contort. 

Well, Juzo thinks this.

As far as Juzo is aware, Chisa hasn’t heard this sort of scene before either. Sure, they have been with Kyosuke intimately, alone and together, but with him knowing, and with them touching. This sheds a new light and the different shadows and highlights cast almost make it seem like a completely new thing. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and Juzo feels like he’s the one being spied on.

Chisa risks taking a step closer and lands her foot too heavily. Wood screeches. Kyosuke yelps. The door lurches open and he pops his head out, face flushed.

“You’re back,” he says, not emerging any more than that.

“Tengan ended up giving everyone the afternoon off,” explains Chisa. How she can talk already, Juzo doesn’t know, but he notices her legs jigging from pent up energy.  “So, we, uh, went to buy groceries... and just came in right now. The groceries are by the door.”

“R-Right,” says Kyosuke. “Do you... need my assistance?”

“I was about to ask you that,” she says, and she points at the door. 

He stiffens and almost certainly cups his crotch as if he can feel her finger from across the room. 

“No wonder you didn’t answer my calls,” Chisa comments, smirking. Her eyes glint. “You’ve been busy, huh? With something hard.”

Juzo silently admires her boldness.

Kyosuke hunches his shoulders. “I... The food won’t melt, will it?”

“Hey, it sounds kind of like you don’t want our help.” Chisa pouts and presses her knuckles against her hips.

The plural pronoun kickstarts Juzo’s brain but just in case it didn’t, Chisa nudges his side with her elbow.

“The groceries will be fine,” she tells Kyosuke. She hooks her arm around Juzo’s elbow and leads him over to the door. “Promise.”

“Y-Yeah,” Juzo blurts. He coughs and says as suavely as he can muster, “Let us help you out, big guy.”

Kyosuke stares at him and Juzo’s face heats up to an uncomfortable level. Chisa laughs delicately. Shaking his head fondly, Kyosuke steps away from the door and lets the other two swoop down on him. His trousers pool around his ankles after a few eager tugs, and the article of clothing soon becomes a puddle of folded fabric lost on the way over to the couch, other clothes dribbled off around it.


	2. Ibuki/Mikan... leaping into the other’s arms

Mikan stares up at the haunted house that grows in size as she and Ibuki draw closer to it. Okay, the white building towering over Mikan isn’t really haunted. The chain link barriers that turn the queue into a maze all the way to the porch wouldn’t be at a real haunted house, and the tombstones bearing names with puns, dotted on raised terrain behind a picket fence to one side of them, are clearly deliberate and fake. Added onto this, through no fault of their own, the grey clouds in the sky feel excessive and over the top. Well, they are over the top in the sense that they exist above them, therefore on top, but -

“Finally!” Ibuki yells and Mikan joins in almost as loud, which inspires Ibuki to scream too.

Near the entrance of the haunted house, an attendant in a black-and-green loita dress jumps, and most likely so does anyone lurking around this section of the park who also decided to brave against the cold, rain-prone weather today.

First to stop screaming is Mikan. Victorious, Ibuki holds the noise for as long as she can, and then she remarks, “Wow-Ow! Nurse Mikan-chan was defeated by Ibuki’s hyper voice, but Mikan-chan was nonetheless impressive.”

“Y-You startled me,” explains Mikan, clutching her heart.

Ibuki grins and says, “Ibuki commends your enthusiasm! The attraction hasn’t even started yet and Mikan-chan’s all fired up! Woo! Ibuki’s feeling another kind of attraction more than ever now!”

Mikan just gives a small smile back, but her lips compress and split open into an o-shape when Ibuki grasps Mikan’s hand and leads them up steps then across the porch to the attendant who ushers them into the building.

Green ceiling lights enable sight in the foyer. From an out-of-sight speaker, a voice drawls, “Be careful not to dawdle for too long, mortals. After all, who knows what followed you in...? It really makes every creak in another room and flickering candlelight much more sinister, don’t you think? Please... come into the next room...”

Still holding Mikan’s hand, Ibuki takes them to the next room as instructed. Normally, the place would be packed, but on this rare occasion, they find themselves the only visitors on this particular tour because of the temperamental weather. While Ibuki beams, Mikan looks around uneasily. Different portraits hang on each wall, totalling four, of middle-aged to elderly people from the torso up in mundane poses in mundane places. For example, one painting depicts a woman in front of a town hall, and another shows a chef flourishing a spoon. The door that they entered through closes and the small room darkens significantly, flushing it with a dull yellow glow, but the paintings remain distinct due to LED lights above the top of their frames.

“Welcome to my haunted mansion,” says the same bodiless voice that greeted them. “Make yourselves at home... there’s not much else you can do. See, the only door is locked and there are no windows, so you can’t do much else. Don’t worry though, it’s not so bad here... as long as you don’t upset the residents. A few of them have been here for over one hundred years, so they’re quite used to things being as they are. It’s crowded, but I suppose we can accommodate you... at a stretch.”

The walls of the room seemingly begin to stretch upward and Mikan tenses, but she quickly realises that the room they stepped into is actually an open-topped elevator now traveling downward, and the covering on the bottom halves of the paintings slide down as she and Ibuki descend. The woman in front of the town hall has flames licking at her legs as she burns at the stake, and the chef’s platter has a head biting down on an apple.

Mikan grasps Ibuki’s arm.

“Ibuki tots wants this kind of stuff on her next album cover,” announces Ibuki. She makes eye contact with Mikan. “Hey, you’re not grossed out, are you?”

“N-No,” Mikan admits. She fidgets with the bottom of her skirt. “During horror movies, only jump scares get to me... but these paintings are q-quite strange, aren’t they?”

“Strange is just misunderstood,” Ibuki replies.

At the bottom, the door opens, and they wander through the next room. It contains the sort of things that one would expect to find in a pretend haunted house: silver string cobwebs, paintings of people that change to skeletons when viewed at certain angles, fake windows that flash with pretend lightning and rocking chairs set to lurch by themselves. The voice on the speakers tries to evoke a sinister mood with a narration about the old tenants, but once Ibuki has headbanged in front of all the paintings on the walls and seen every possible image, she drags Mikan into the next area even though the narration hasn’t ended yet.

“Climb aboard,” the voice commands, referring to the connected carts moving along a track ahead of the pair. It doesn’t stop for them so the girls jump on, Ibuki first.

Mikan adjusts the angle of her foot as she lands so she falls on her face by Ibuki’s feet.

“That’s a spectacularly uber fail, even for you,” remarks Ibuki as she pulls Mikan up. They sit next to each other, shed their damp coats which they slip behind their backs, and lower the bar to their lap.

“I’m so clumsy,” Mikan apologises, receiving less of a reaction than she predicted. Her stomach hurts a bit where she landed on her satchel, which contains her purse, first aid kit and umbrella.

Ibuki shrugs. “Next time, fall on Ibuki and Ibuki will catch you, okay? Lap or chest are preferred.”

She fixes the position of Mikan’s cap, which matches Ibuki’s and has two sequined rabbit ears on it, and winks.

A squeak pops out of Mikan and she hides her burning face in her hands.

Even though the next part of the attraction doesn’t scare Mikan, the technology certainly impresses her and both girls are more than happy to use it as an excuse for Mikan to cling to Ibuki’s arm. Though, really, Mikan doesn’t need an excuse because the fact they’re dating should be reason enough. Right? Right. They pass by a ballroom where holograms fade in and out of existence, and they see more paintings where the subject shows more ghoulish characteristics depending on the angle. 

“It appears they’re having some difficulties passing through to our world. What a shame... they really want to meet you,” says the narrator. 

A hologram swoops past them and Mikan shrieks. Due to the bar on the cart, she can’t leap onto Ibuki’s lap. Well aware of this, Ibuki rests her chin in her palm and pouts.

“Perhaps Madame Damara can... lend a hand or two,” suggests the narrator.

The next room has them go around a loose bend around an animatronic woman whose hand flies around as, at a guess, a hologram. Her cackles echo through the chamber, and the hand she stirs with is also disconnected from her arm, stirring a cauldron. 

She says,

“Crickets, snails, basil and puppy dog tails,   
eyes of newts and rotten fruits...   
These are just a few of the ingredients   
for all you miscreants.”

Their cart drives into a room decorated to resemble a graveyard. Tombstones, zombies, ghosts... Mikan tries to take in as much as possible as the narrator describes their surroundings in rhyme. Ibuki raises her hand to her forehead and surveys the dark room, holding her stance as their cart bounces them in their seats. Afterwards, they wind through another hallway of portraits and ghosts before climbing up a slope.

“Congratulations,” says the narrator. “It seems like you reached the end! Please, take this certificate... this death certificate...”

Smoke hisses out either side of them, making the girls twitch. Between the pipes in the walls that pump out the smoke are mirrors where a ghost can be seen with their reflections. At the top, doors open and the floor levels, and their cart comes to a stop. Ibuki lifts the bar over their lap and they step out. Mikan hugs herself, shaking not so much due to fear, or even because she’s cold, but because the ride overwhelmed her senses with noises and shifts between dark and light.

“That involved a lot more sitting than Ibuki anticipated,” says Ibuki as they put on their coats and head toward the exit. She curls her lips and scratches the back of her head. “Ibuki had it all planned out... Mikan-chan would zoinks into Ibuki’s arms, and Ibuki would carry her over the horizon to their hotel room and go on the slip ‘n’ slide with her!”

If Ibuki continues saying things like that, Mikan will pass out and have to be carried to their hotel room. Her head spins and she hides her face in her hands. Hearing Ibuki chuckle, Mikan peeks out from between her fingers and drops her hands so she can rub the goosebumps on her arms as they step outside.

Lightning causes their vision to flash white. Thunder rumbles. Ibuki yelps and leaps into Mikan’s arms. Though Mikan stumbles, she manages not to fall over. Thankfully, Ibuki doesn’t weigh much. No, not thankfully, because Mikan keeps insisting that Ibuki eats more but Ibuki always changes the topic...

... but anyway.

“H-Hotel room, was it?” asks Mikan with a quivering smirk.

For once, Ibuki has been rendered speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requests from this meme http://zenonaa.tumblr.com/post/158530557125/semi-nsfw-meme-send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number

**Author's Note:**

> i'm taking requests on my tumblr


End file.
